rom the house.

"If I had only been a little less fond of you, I think I should have
destroyed it. But oh! how could destroy the only thing I had which
proved that I had saved you from discovery? If we did come to an
explanation together, and if you suspected me of having some bad motive,
and denied it all, how could I win upon you to trust me, unless I had
the nightgown to produce? Was it wronging you to believe, as I did and
do still, that you might hesitate to let a poor girl like me be the
sharer of your secret, and your accomplice in the theft which your
money-troubles had tempted you to commit? Think of your cold behaviour
to me, sir, and you will hardly wonder at my unwillingness to destroy
the only claim on your confidence and your gratitude which it was my
fortune to possess.

"I determined to hide it; and the place I fixed on was the place I knew
best--the Shivering Sand.

"As soon as the questioning was over, I made the first excuse that came
into my head, and got leave to go out for a breath of fresh air. I went
straight to Cobb's Hole, to Mr. Yolland's cottage. His wife and daughter
were the best friends I had. Don't suppose I trusted them with your
secret--I have trusted nobody. All I wanted was to write this letter
to you, and to have a safe opportunity of taking the nightgown off me.
Suspected as I was, I could do neither of those things with any sort of
security, at the house.

"And now I have nearly got through my long letter, writing it alone in
Lucy Yolland's bedroom. When it is done, I shall go downstairs with the
nightgown rolled up, and hidden under my cloak. I shall find the means
I want for keeping it safe and dry in its hiding-place, among the litter
of old things in Mrs. Yolland's kitchen. And then I shall go to the
Shivering Sand--don't be afraid of my letting my footmarks betray
me!--and hide the nightgown down in the sand, where no living creature
can find it without being first let into the secret by myself.

"And, when that's done, what then?

"Then, Mr. Franklin, I shall have two reasons for making another attempt
to say the words to you which I have not said yet. If you leave the
house, as Penelope believes you will leave it, and if I haven't spoken
to you before that, I shall lose my opportunity forever. That is one
reason. Then, again, there is the comforting knowledge--if my speaking
does make you angry--that I have got the nightgown ready to plead my
cause for me as nothing e